


The Match Girl

by thepageofapillow



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: Comfort, F/F, Fire, Light Angst, Outcast Hwasa, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:31:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6687454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepageofapillow/pseuds/thepageofapillow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hyejin’s matches seemed to burn everyone else, but evidently, Wheein was fireproof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Match Girl

She was interesting, to say the least. Jet black hair matched the stain painted on her lips as she mingled with the heat from a single wooden stick. Everyone knew to stay away, in fear of being burned. Not only did her stoic personality do the trick, but it was the neverending lit matches that singed everyone in her wake to the point that she was avoidable. Hyejin didn’t expect anything else. She was content with her loneliness and reveled in lighting matches.

She loved the smell of burning wood, and awaited it every time she struck it across the gigantic box. The glowing pocket sized ember waved in the wind like it usually did, gradually burning its way down the stick until it was almost close to the girl’s blood red fingernails. When the time came, she would blow on it gently, ridding the stick of the flame as instant as snapping your fingers. Smoke would spoor away, fizzling into the open atmosphere and mingling with the different molecules in the air.

Hyejin, along with her match addiction, was one of the best singers in her grade. Though no one knew, of course, because she had distanced herself from the rest of the pack. Sometimes she liked to be alone because she felt no one could understand her. More often than not was because she was an introvert at heart. But even so, deep inside the dwellings of her heart lie a yearning to have someone to be stupid with. Most of the time Hyejin was quiet, but if she’d found a special friend to bring out her extroverted side, she’d be grateful. In all honesty she could label herself as an ambivert, but she’d long abandoned that when her former best friend neglected her long ago.

Maybe that’s why she took to burning matches. The flame was fleeting, just like the idea of friendship, and watching it for a few seconds made you feel so instantly overwhelmed with happiness that you didn’t know what do to. However, as long as it trailed down the stick and time wasted away, it would be time to blow it out. Hyejin never regarded herself as a deep person, but that analogy sometimes tricked her mindset a bit. She just tries to remember to take each day as it comes, and appreciate the little things that people do for you no matter what.

But right now, she was in a bad mood, which led to her whipping out her laptop-sized box of matches and going to work. The box was half empty, only reserved for times when Hyejin was in bounds of stress or anxiety. It was always nestled in the crook of her backpack for safe keeping. She struck it across the box, watching the flame blaze with its infinite supply of oxygen. It was times like these that made her feel blissful. A gust of her breath undoes the burning of the match, and she gazes up at the sky for a split second.

The clouds are puffy and cumulus, almost looking like whipped cream on top of a blueberry colored sky. The sun beamed high in the sky to the right, illuminating the courtyard where Hyejin sat. She averts her look back to the box in her hands as she scoots a little further to the trunk of the willow tree she’s under, resting her head on the back of it and running her hand through her hair for a bit. She inhales and exhales to the tune of the school bell chiming in slow paces, calming herself down for a little bit.

She’s about to leave when she hears the grass rustle beside her. She feels the exertion of body heat warm up her arm as she turns to the left. A girl is sitting there, her incandescent smile churning Hyejin’s insides. “Hi,” is all she says, her dimpled smile inviting as she trains her eyes on the girl holding a mega box in her delicate fingers. Hyejin isn’t sure how to react. Grateful? Annoyed, like always? A different approach? So all she does is mumble under her breath. Hyejin herself didn’t even know what she was saying, much less the girl to the left of her. She didn’t seem to mind, though, since she stayed and kept talking to Hyejin.

“I’m Wheein. I like sunny days like these where I can watch the clouds, but it seems you’re in my favorite spot,” she jokes, a tiny giggle added to the end of her sentence. Hyejin can’t help but be enamored by the girl’s mere presence here. Even though everything in the back of her mind is saying that she’ll be hurt again, Hyejin presses on. It can’t hurt to take a chance.

“I’m Hyejin,” she peeps almost inaudibly, but somehow, Wheein catches it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Hyejin,” Wheein notes, holding her hand out. Hyejin takes it, putting her box down for a second to shake the girl’s hand. Her skin is incredibly smooth.

Almost as if a switch had been flipped, Wheein’s personality turns from calm to erratic. “Oh my god! I _love_ your nails!” At the compliment, Hyejin reddens, scanning any other area than Wheein’s face.

“Thank you. I like yours too.” Wheein blushes at the compliment in turn, looking at her own chipped and cracked attempts at pastel green nails. “These? They’re awful. I messed up on them.”

“Not everything has to be perfect. I think they’re nice.” It’s been a while since Hyejin has spoken a proper sentence like that.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Hyejin is about to ask where Wheein had gotten that jacket until that came up. She sheepishly nodded her head, and the girl next to her continued. “Why does everyone not talk to you? It’s like you don’t exist here,” Wheein commented, almost a saddening tone to her voice. At this, Hyejin pulls out her matches again and anxiously strikes a stick, watching the heat as moisture pricks at her eyelids.

“Everyone thinks I’m weird.” Hyejin tries not to speak as strangled as she feels, but her voice comes out hoarse and definitely too easy to read and she curses herself. She should have more restraint over her feelings.

“But weird is good,” Wheein says, laying her hand over Hyejin’s, which was shaking against the cardboard box’s top. Hyejin finally gets a good look at the person keeping her company, and her eyes widen as she studies the girl’s face. Her brows are furrowed in worry, her gaze softening at every flicker over Hyejin’s form. Wheein’s hand wraps around the part of Hyejin’s palm nearest to her pinky finger and squeezes affectionately. It relayed a message to let Hyejin know that ‘hey, I’m here, and you can talk to me whenever.’ Hyejin caves then, and lets herself pour out to the girl as she squeezes the girl’s hand back with equal vigor.

Hyejin’s about to speak when the girl moves both of their hands to the grass. It was slightly wet there because of the dew, but Wheein didn’t care. She slid open the box, taking a match and clipping it against the box, lighting the small flame. “I’ll light matches with you here every day only to keep you company. I feel like you need a friend. Or at least for someone to care about you. You seem sad behind those eyes and I want to know more.”

After that sentence, Hyejin doesn’t hesitate to lean into the strange girl’s shoulders and cry out her feelings for the first time.


End file.
